


my choice to reign is worth ambition, though in Hell

by purplekitte



Category: Makai Ouji: Devils and Realist
Genre: Angst, Cuddling, Flirting, M/M, Unrequited Love, Villains having feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 07:22:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3927955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplekitte/pseuds/purplekitte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Freely we serve,<br/>Because we freely love, as in our will<br/>To love or not; in this we stand or fall:<br/>And some are fallen, to disobedience fallen,<br/>And so from heaven to deepest hell; O fall<br/>From what high state of bliss into what woe!</p>
            </blockquote>





	my choice to reign is worth ambition, though in Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the last episode of the anime/volume 5 of the manga, though not particularly canon compliant. I also have no idea if Baalberith has gotten more backstory further along in the manga than I am. I don't really care how these characters ended up alone in the same room talking, just that they did.

Solomon pet Baalberith’s dark hair, stroked down his face, feeling the catch of the scar that nearly bisected his face just below the eyes, the itch of his stubble. He longed to move, to be able to do so, and longed for Solomon’s touch as much as he did for Heaven.

“Tired yourself out, my dear?” he asked the demon with his head in his lap.

“I’m not your doll. I’m not Sitri.”

“Are you confessing to something?”

“Has he been complaining to you?”

“Do I need to be told to know my pillars now? Have I been gone so long? Did you miss me?”

He felt like a fox with his tail caught in a trap, willing to chew it off to escape rather than remain here, like this. No. Yes. No. “It’s cruel of you to lie like this. You, a heartless being who sold his soul to another, still plays with his pillars with his parody of affection. You invite us to fall in love with you, and the impressionable ones, Sitri, Dantalion, are taken in by it, even knowing you can never return the love you’ve already given away to another.”

“But not you.”

“I can’t forget. I believe in only what I can own, and you will never me mine.”

“But you are mine. My pillar.”

“I will defeat you and take your power for myself one day,” he promised openly and without guile. Hiding it would be pointless in the face of the all-knowing king, and he wanted Solomon to hear him proclaim what he had long since chosen. He refused to acknowledge his failure to do so so far as more than a setback, rather than a lack of power and ability.

It was appalling that he, once a Son of God, should be in thrall to a mere human. Such a soft human at that, not even a warrior, who Baalberith should have been able to snap in half without a thought. Instead Baalberith was curled up at his feet like a dog, while Solomon sat straight and tall as a king. This was already punishment, that he was here, like this, weak and pliant and defeated, and, worse, knowing some part of him wanted to be and lean into Solomon’s touch more than anything. Wanted his love, if only he believed in it. He should have become a nephil after death rather than reincarnated, yet Hell itself could not have contained him, it seemed.

Solomon, knowingly, kneaded fingers into his shoulders and the muscles of his arms, though he had pillars who wore the bodies of flesh of great bulls or monstrous beasts compared to Baalberith’s well-contained, refined power and grace. “So strong, so proud.”

Solomon ran a thumb over his lips, and Baalberith had to bite back a sob. “I could remind you of everything you desire that you hate to admit to, even to yourself. I could make you forget yourself and beg for me and love it. And you would hate me after for what I make of you, as much as you love me. Or, I could let you hold me down and have me any way you want. You could take out your anger and stake your claim on me over and over. And you would still never forgive me, for allowing you only an illusion of victory, for never truly belonging to you.”

He would not lower himself to plead with his lord, his owner, but he wanted more than anything to not be forced to choose. He wanted to sweep that all away in favor of some third option he did not know himself yet.

He hated that Solomon had seduced him into being one of his pillars all those years ago, despite his attempts to remain aloof. How he had prided himself on being less naïve than the rest, less drawn into the web of make-believe family and companionship. Yet Solomon had still managed to catch him, like a stray slowly one over by scraps left outside until he was eating from a man’s hand. He’d been proud the promises Solomon had made to him had been few, and little enough trifles if the human didn’t fulfil them. It was true: Solomon had made promises to him he could and did fulfil. So Baalberith had sold himself and still hadn’t gotten what he wanted.

What he wanted was impossible anyway.

Everything would be so much easier, just for this one moment, if he could only give in. Everything would be easier if he could lie to himself.

 _Please,_ he didn’t say, yet knew Solomon was hearing.

Solomon smiled at him and bent down to kiss him. Baalberith could never decide if there was genuine compassion in him around the manipulation, or if it mattered when it could only be an abstract, second-hand thing at best. “Or we could be what we are, and alone, together.” The emptiness left behind in Solomon by Lucifer. The emptiness in Baalberith where Heaven had been. They could pretend. Then things would go back to how they had been, Solomon dead and some stripling boy in his place, Baalberith king of hell and his enemy.

It would have to be enough.


End file.
